Classic Poem

With my wife, the dancer decked with bangles following after me
and struggling to climb the narrow paths, their crevices hard to cross
in the high mountains where tigers wander, her body stooped over
and taking only short steps because she has already walked too much,
I have come, my king! since I have thought of your great fame
that has spread far, and at my side, with my heart uneasy,
I have cradled my small yal, its strings like stretched wires of gold
tightened, full of singing melody when I play the ragas across
all the landscapes but more than any other the patumalai raga that firmly
resides upon this instrument through whose full use I live!
Lord of the mountain! Ay! Great descendant of the Velir lineage!
Whenever you notice within your court those who have come to you
in need, you give them crowds of elephants with feet large as mortars
and you also give them the calves. I do not want an elephant
nor a horse nor a chariot harnessed to a horse with shining
golden fittings! When such as bards and singers and those who have come
in their need to you gather in your gifts and make them their own,
you who truly know how riches bear fruit never consider thinking
that those things are yours and taking them back! I have come for nothing
but to see you! lord of a land widely praised,
you who have the power to overcome the onslaughts of enemies.